


Wolf's Den

by starcunning



Series: Bite of the Black Wolf [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Both twins are the Warrior of Light together, Colette de Dzemael, Elezen Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, FFXIV 1.23a, Felching, NSFW, Odette de Dzemael, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Other, Threesome - F/M/F - Freeform, Twins, twinsverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starcunning/pseuds/starcunning
Summary: “But you must allow me to congratulate you on bringing down the White Raven. When I received word, I struggled to contain my reaction. I should thank you.”“We did not eliminate your rival for your benefit,” said Colette, fixing him with her lilac eyes. “And we deserve a better show of gratitude.”He could feel his weapon’s comfortable weight at his back, and was sure they would not have missed its silhouette rising above his shoulder—still it amused him to be spoken to so frankly. None had dared since Garlond, but for van Darnus’s dismissive superiority. But this was a different beast. “What, pray tell, do you mean by that?”“We do not put much stock in words in Ishgard,” Colette told him, looking from his pallid mask down to her own hands, tucking away her rosary and examining her own fingernails, curling and stretching her hand before her as she continued to speak. “A man may say any number of things, but it is his deeds which reveal his character.”“If you believe you should thank us,” Odette added, “then do so, rather than speak on the matter. And in such half-measures—it does not suit the Black Wolf.”
Relationships: Gaius van Baelsar/Warrior of Light
Series: Bite of the Black Wolf [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670509
Kudos: 10





	Wolf's Den

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seraphicrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphicrose/gifts).



> As an advisory, this is a threesome (FMF) with twins, but the twins have no sexual contact with one another.
> 
> Originally posted to tumblr 27 February 2019.

The shrine to Halone crowned a bluff overlooking the rolling green fields of Coerthas. Grass rippled in the wind as the twins approached—garbed not, as was their usual wont, as warriors or adventurers, but more simply, as pilgrims. It was not a face they had often shown to the world, but the Champions of Eorzea had been cast in a new role since the death of the White Raven. Armies would rally behind Odette de Dzemael if she lifted her sword; the peoples of the realm would as readily follow Colette with her rosary in hand. Which was not to say the elder twin was impious; she recited the prayer with as much surety, and both sisters trembled slightly at the bloom of aether that washed over them on the night breeze.

Gaius van Baelsar was numb to such things, by choice and birth as much as the cermet plating of his armor. The clawed fingers of his gauntlet rang where he rasped them against the stone, drawing the pair from their meditations. It had been the perfect tableau before his interruption, played out for no audience but him—and the swollen crimson moon that hung in the sky over them, all three.

He took his hand from the stone, brushing fingers against palm as though he had sullied himself by that contact with the divine, drawing abreast of the plinth.

“I receive word that the Sharlayans have resumed their meddling—and who should I find here but the pair of you?” Gaius mused. Despite his words, there was no surprise to his tone, and no real expectation of answer. “Were I one to believe in such folly, I would say that our fates are intertwined.”

“He that protests most strongly is guilty of the greater sin,” Odette said. Her expression was one of amusement, her smile almost cruel. Her sanctimony was not entirely unexpected, given all that he had heard of the Temple Knights of Ishgard. It was only her boldness that surprised—but she was not looking at him from the far end of Heirsbane.

He could not help but smile in any case. “But you must allow me to congratulate you on bringing down the White Raven. When I received word, I struggled to contain my reaction. I should thank you.”

“We did not eliminate your rival for your benefit,” said Colette, fixing him with her lilac eyes. “And we deserve a better show of gratitude.”

He could feel his weapon’s comfortable weight at his back, and was sure they would not have missed its silhouette rising above his shoulder—still it amused him to be spoken to so frankly. None had dared since Garlond, but for van Darnus’s dismissive superiority. But this was a different beast. “What, pray tell, do you mean by that?”

“We do not put much stock in words in Ishgard,” Colette told him, looking from his pallid mask down to her own hands, tucking away her rosary and examining her own fingernails, curling and stretching her hand before her as she continued to speak. “A man may say any number of things, but it is his deeds which reveal his character.”

“If you believe you should thank us,” Odette added, “then do so, rather than speak on the matter. And in such half-measures—it does not suit the Black Wolf.”

“Certainly Garlemald, as a pinnacle of civilization, believes no differently?” Colette said.

He laughed. “You have seen me act,” he reminded them, turning away. Gaius pressed his hand to the stone once more, caressing the spear-shaped markings graven in the stone. He could not help but think of Bradamante in the doing—and of its bearer, and of her legion. His hand curled to a fist, and he knocked it twice against the stone. “But if you truly put no store by words, then you will not be interested to hear, I think, of the fate of the Seventh Legion.” He glanced back at them then.

They stood straighter, ceasing their disinterested fidgeting. Two pairs of pale violet eyes fixed now to his pallid mask. “What?”

“This is no subject to be spoken of openly,” he continued. “I will receive you aboard my airship and we will discuss the subject over dinner.” There was only the sound of the breeze in answer, and the distant baying of wolves. He left them to consider his offer, and went to make his own preparations.

* * *

The  _ Aurelia _ was no pleasure-barge; her belly was full of death and she bristled with the magitek might of the Empire, but he was Legatus and afforded some comforts. His quarters were to the rear, aft of the ceruleum repulsor engines that directed the ship and far behind the plasma cannon used for aerial strike. Built on three levels, banks of windows looked out over the world far below. The night darkened, crimson light blackening the fields of green below, and he hardly needed a runner to notify him when the shuttle carrying Eorzea’s champions embarked—he could see the flare of the engines from where he stood.

This meeting was governed by the white flag of parley, and he had put aside his armor to meet with them as a statesman. The enameled medals rattled against his chest as he tugged the jacket straighter, the black fur lining the lapel brushing at his jaw, tangling with the bristles of a day’s growth of beard. There had been no time to shave, and he didn’t really repent of it anyway, simply shook his head loose and descended to the mezzanine. There was a study there, trimmed in dark wood, where he often conducted the duties of his office—paperwork and reports; the inglorious minutiae which other Legatii so disdained but with which he was so deft. It was there he had read the news he would relate to the Champions of Eorzea, but presently he paused to check the lock—the secrets of the Empire were still his to guard. Beyond that was a simple balcony that overlooked the chambers below. Twin staircases set against the walls bracketed a long, formal dining table. It was rare the occasion called for his usage—more frequently he ate with his lieutenants and sometimes even the rank and file of the legion—but three places had been set, and linens dressed, and candles lit. All that was needful then was the presence of his guests.

Soon, they arrived, ushered into the Legatus’s suite through the heavy doors, their entry shattering for a moment the interlinked diamonds graven upon the wood veneer. They had not come as warriors either—nor as pilgrims, having exchanged their attire in the interim.

Colette looked almost like the ice goddess she had bent herself in worship to—her pale hair pinned back from her face with iridescent combs, her gown a pale blue and glittering with gems and bead work like frost. Her bare shoulders and slender neck were shrouded in silvery gossamer, like wind bestirring the flurries of snow. He missed distant Ilsabard for just a moment—but only for a moment.

Odette seemed her opposite, swathed in heavy fur from throat to knee, the black fur betraying the dappling of rosettes only as she moved into the light. At throat and hem it was trimmed with white instead, and gave little away of what laid beneath—though her boots seemed to be made of nothing more substantial than black lace. She lifted a hand to brush her unbound hair back over one shoulder, delicate waves falling from a warrior’s hand.

He smiled; he could not help it. It was the appropriate thing to do, of course, but beyond that, Eorzea’s last and best hope was ensconced aboard a Garlean airship—and prepared to take the matter seriously, given the care with which they had approached it. Gaius leaned upon the handrail a moment, watching them stare up at him, and then broached the staircase.

They had not seen him out of armor before, he considered as he descended—and the supernatural insight they had so often displayed had not made mention of him either. He was sure of that, given their expressions. His medals jangled against his chest briefly, the only sound in the room for a brief moment.

“Welcome aboard the  _ Aurelia, _ ” he greeted them, “flagship of the Fourteenth. May I take your coat?”

“No,” Odette said, burying her long fingers in the white fluff of its lapels, clutching it closer around herself.

Her sister was more amenable, shrugging out of her wrap with a murmured “Naturally,” as she passed it off. He saw then that the drapery of fabric at her shoulder—which had reminded him for the moment of a senator’s garb—was fixed to her wrist, shifting and fluttering with her every movement. With it wafted the scent of roses into the air. For just a moment his worldview shifted, and then he conducted them to his table and righted the axis of the world once more.

* * *

Dinner was altogether a pleasanter affair than they might have observed in the mess—and richer than he was used to, in point of fact; Ala Mhigan tajines and Argolid pheasant confit and caviar and spirits from the Garlean capital. The twins seemed unimpressed by the bounty of the Empire; they ate little and said less, only exchanging glances from their seats at his left and right hand. The wine, at least, they had no objection to—once they had watched the bottle opened at the table side and seen him drink from it, too.

Gaius van Baelsar had never made the mistake of thinking them naive, even watching them bow in supplication to their helpless goddess, and so had never expected their blind trust. If they did not put store immediately by his mercies, that was well enough. They could be convinced.

It was around dessert—directing her gaze dismissively from the tray of glittering cups of kissel—that Odette spoke. “That’s more than enough for pleasantry, I should think,” she said.

He wanted to laugh, and felt the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What now?” he wondered. “Will you make demands of me aboard my own ship?”

“And so what if we did,” Colette said mildly. “We did not come for caviar and  _ eau-de-vie _ ; were we minded to indulge those tastes we would simply go home.”

“’Tis true,” Odette added. “Dinner has all but come and gone, and not a word of the Seventh has passed between us.”

His smile faded, though his amusement did not. “Very well,” he said. “To business, then.”

“Best ‘twere discharged before the hour grows much later,” Odette agreed.

“Nael van Darnus,” Gaius said, struggling to keep the resentment from his tone, “was as a god to her legionaries. In their blind faith, they have convinced themselves she yet lives.”

“But we watched the Rivenroad collapse, bereft of her command to stabilize it,” Odette said.

“And we saw her last breath leave her lungs. I know what death looks like,” Colette insisted.

Gaius only nodded. “I have no cause to doubt your deeds and am not casting aspersions myself,” he told them. “But the Seventh is self-deluded enough to take up the cause of finding her. They deceive their Emperor—the reports they send to the capital declare Meteor a success and the White Raven a hero.”

“That bothers you, doesn’t it,” Odette noted, folding her arms across her chest. Her smile was placid, but her eyes never left his, lilac fixed to pale gold.

“Were the epithet of ‘snake’ not already spoken for, I would suggest it suited her,” Gaius said. “Little wonder the Seventh does not stint at lying to His Radiance; she was not ashamed to, and she molded the legion in her very image.”

“I do not think your Emperor is inclined to believe our claims that she is dead,” Colette noted, “nor the Alliance’s. All our ‘savage propaganda’ would have as much effect as a lemon meringue dropped from a great height.”

“I do not intend you to solve that matter,” Gaius said.

“I am not certain we intend to solve any more problems for you or for Garlemald,” Odette pointed out.

“No?” said the Black Wolf, teeth flashing as he smiled. “Then it will not bother you to know that the Seventh have entrenched themselves at the heart of Eorzea. They believe they will find her there—that she will come thence to meet the red moon she so adores. Were you not bound there also to stop its descent?”

“How did you—but you knew about the pilgrimage,” Odette said. “Of course you would know its purpose.”

“I am reliably informed,” Gaius said. “Regardless, the Alliance will not suffer their presence there overlong. You may fight them,” he said, waving a permissive hand, “but their defeat will not halt the red moon of Allag.”

“What will, then?” Colette wondered.

“Your Twelve, will they not?” Gaius asked, smile turning sardonic. “Is that not why you walk the trackless countrysides and bow your heads before the graven stones?”

The twins exchanged glances in silent conference, and after a moment it was Odette who spoke. “The Archons think so.”

“But you are less sure,” Gaius said. “After all, if Halone were capable of delivering Ishgard from its hardships, She would have put an end to your war with the dragons nine centuries ago.”

Again they glanced at one another, more dubious now.

Gaius took in their consternation, sipping at his wine. After a moment, he spoke again. “Why then undertake an errand you do not believe in?”

“It matters less what we believe,” Odette said after a pause. “Others believe if we but show the way, and it is better the smallfolk busy themselves with pilgrimage and prayer than panic.”

“A savage’s amusement, then,” Gaius noted. “There are worse things than to offer men a full belly and an empty head.”

“How cold your world must be,” Colette said, “to think of such things as faith with only the direst pragmatism.”

“As cold as your Fury’s bosom?” asked Gaius.

“Colder still than her purported inaction,” she replied. “Regardless of whether the Twelve will answer the Archons’ call, Halone will be with us—in the strength of my sister’s arm; in the sharpness of our blades.”

“When you pray, then,” Gaius said, “pray that will be enough. Even if it is, strength and struggle alone will not halt the moon, nor the realization of the White Raven’s twisted ambitions—even from beyond her grave.”

“You could offer us your aid, if you do not trust to our faith,” Odette noted, tone laconic.

“What you suggest is treason,” Gaius noted, smiling at her crookedly. “I will take you to Carteneau if that is your wish, but there my influence ends. To do more is to defy my Emperor, and while His Radiance sits the throne I will not.”

“Then,” said Colette, reaching for one of the cut crystal tumblers and setting it before her, “are we at ends?” Waiting for his response, she traced a fingernail along the fluted rim, then lifted it and tipped the crimson liquid past her lips.

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Gaius said, watching her throat bob. Her neck, bare and slender, would certainly smell of roses if he buried his nose against it. Of that he was quite certain.

Odette smiled, standing in a single smooth motion. “If we are to stay much longer,” she said, “you may take my jacket now.”

He turned his gaze upon her; she did not flinch from his regard. “Why would you?” he asked, coaxing the admission from her.

“Is this not what diplomacy always amounts to in the end?” she wondered, lifting a hand to curl her fingers about the fall of her pale tresses, pulling them forward about her shoulder.

Gaius stood then, but Odette simply turned her back upon him. His hands were at her shoulders a moment later, fur soft against his callused palms, fingers curling in the white ruff about her throat. “To so openly invite conquest is reckless,” he said, but he bowed his head as he spoke, the words breath against her ear.

She lifted her shoulders in response, shrugging out of the furs. At first glance her gown was modest—gathered at her throat, black lace covering her broad shoulders—but he could see the musculature of her back. Her pale skin was almost radiant against the delicate lace; there was no liner, and if she turned about, he was certain there would be nothing left to protect her false modesty.

Reckless indeed.

The fur heavy in his hands, he withdrew, and could hear her breath escape her in a shuddering sigh. Gaius ignored it, crossing the room to the doorway without. The centurion outside, seeing him step into the hall, snapped instantly to attention. Gaius waved him to his ease, handing him the furs. In the harsher light of the airship, he could see more readily the dark rosettes upon fur that had already appeared black. The centurion took it with confusion, but handled it with care.

“M-my lord?” he managed.

“My guests and I are not to be disturbed for the duration of the evening,” Gaius said. “Inform tol Scorpius he has the conn, and direct any communications his way.”

“At once, Lord van Baelsar!” he said, strictest discipline overriding any lingering questions about the unusual affairs conducted on the other side of the cermet door.

Gaius stepped back through it, and could hear hushed whispers passing between the pair. It was Odette who spoke as the door clicked shut, and he could just make it out:

“If he does not fuck me on the dinner table, I will perish on the spot, and may Halone receive my soul.”

Gaius felt the grin tug at his lips, and heard Colette’s stifled laughter as the locks engaged. She hurried to hush her sister a moment later, her gaze resting upon him already as he turned about, not at all aware it was much too late for that.

“Shall we retire for the evening?” Gaius proposed, his gaze flicking from the twins to the staircases. The strangled, indignant noise Odette made before she could stop herself made him smile more broadly.   
“Not yet,” she said.

“We’ve barely considered dessert,” Colette pointed out.

It was Odette that reached for him first as he drew near, her hand sliding along the lapel of his jacket, smoothing the black fur from his throat. She lifted her chin, lips parted, and he leaned down to capture them. His hand found the nape of her neck, pulling her in. Her perfume wafted up around him; she smelled like candied violets—like the pale pastilles every lady in Garlemald kept in her drawing room to offer guests. It reminded him for a moment of his youth, casting him back in time and her, simultaneously, forward, but then her arms wound around him and he was once more aboard the  _ Aurelia, _ his mouth bent to hers.

He had known better than to expect passivity; still, the way she leaned up against him, lips parting so that he might kiss her more deeply, was a surprise.  _ How long since—? _ Gaius cut the line of thought off at the knees, wrapping an arm around her, fingers pressed into the muscles of her back. She whimpered and sighed against his mouth, backing up slowly, and he shuffled after until he heard the clatter of porcelain. She shifted her weight against him, lifting onto her toes, and he broke the kiss at last to take hold of her by the hips.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed enough that he could see his own silhouette reflected. For a moment she was the perfect picture of the ingenue, and then his gaze wandered from her face. His suspicions had been correct—he could see her nipples, dark against the darker lace, and already begun to pucker. Lifting her, he set Odette on the table’s edge, fine dishware pushed aside with no further thought.

Gaius looked past her for a moment, lifting a hand to beckon to her twin. There was no jealousy in Colette’s expression, only a sort of nervous anticipation that found vent in the way she bit her lower lip. He took hold of her chin, gently, lifting her lips to his. Gaius’s hand skimmed up her jaw to press to her cheek. Her lips were soft, sweet, with the lingering taste of rolanberries. The priestess’s hands skimmed up his back, over the curve of his skull, through his close-cropped hair.

“Your turn is coming,” he told her, a low growl against her mouth.

She said nothing in response, only pulled him in for another kiss, her tongue tracing the curve of his lower lip. Gaius felt breath against his neck a moment later—the only warning before warm lips pressed to his skin, just beneath his ear. Odette’s teeth grazed his flesh, and he straightened after a moment, turning his gaze upon her once more.

She did not look at all chastised by him, only looked up at him as though in open challenge.

“I have not forgotten you,” he said.

“I was not trying to imply you had,” Odette replied, lifting a hand to brush it through her own hair. Gaius’s hand settled on her shoulder, and he could see the smile that bloomed as she leaned back, groping blindly behind her atop the table. Colette was quick enough to rescue the decanter of wine and tray of crystal glasses, though silver still clattered to the floor.

Odette’s hair was bright against the dark wood, like a halo or the spill of moonlight—ivory and serene, rather than the crimson wrath of Dalamud. Gaius pressed his hand to the side of her neck, his thumb beneath her chin, and tipped her head back. He leaned over her, pressing her to the table as his teeth found her throat, stubble rasping against the delicate skin as he enacted his reprisal. Her gasp reverberated against his lips, chest heaving against his. The Black Wolf’s attention wandered lower, and he drew himself back so that lace grazed his cheek. Odette’s hands found his arms, her grip pressing her fingers against his biceps. She was strong—little surprise—but he was, too, and she could feel the iron of his muscles, judging by the brief hitch in her breath.

Or perhaps that was better put down to the rasp of his stubble against her skin—even through the lace of her gown, he could feel her skin, and did not doubt she could feel him in turn. Gaius opened his mouth and laved his tongue over one nipple, the black lace growing damp, clinging to her flesh. He fondled her, brushing his thumb over the cloth, nudging, manipulating, until he could take her, very gently, between his teeth.

“Shall we retire now?” he asked, not lifting his head but looking up the line of her body to see her flushed cheeks.

“No,” Odette said, her tone a good deal more resolute than her expression.

“No?” he echoed. He sighed, very deliberately, warm breath spilling over damp flesh.

She let out a shuddering sigh of her own. “Here,” she said. “We may start here.”

“Are you giving me orders? Aboard my own ship?” Gaius mused, skimming his thumb over her stiffening nipple. “How bold.” He paused for a moment, as though locked in consideration. “Beg me, Champion of Eorzea.”

“What?”

“Beg me to take you, here, like a savage.”

He could hear Colette’s laughter in the background.

Odette let out a soft whine, and it only rose in pitch as Gaius straightened, cupping her cheek against one hand so that he could direct her gaze back toward his own. Her hands, suddenly empty, caught on the folds of his jacket. “Please,” she mewled after a moment, and paused as though fighting some internal war with herself. “Lord van Baelsar,” she addressed him then, the title spilling out over set teeth, her eyes bright and cheeks brighter.

“Please  _ what, _ ” he pressed her.

“I need you to fuck me,” she said. “Here. Now.”

“Here?” Gaius echoed, archly.

“Yes,” she whimpered, shifting and inching her way toward the edge of the table to rub herself against him. “Please, please fuck me, I can’t wait any longer.”

He patted her cheek gently. “Good girl,” he said, reaching for the hem of her dress.

Inching the delicate material up over her strong legs, he noted that what he’d taken for stockings were in fact her boots, crafted from matching lace and reaching her knees. Her thighs were bare, and as the material of her skirts pooled about her waist, he could see she had chosen not to wear anything at all beneath that scandalous dress. He could not help his wolfish grin at that, fitting one hand to her hip to run the pad of his thumb along her slit. He could feel her, wet, and watched the way she arched into that simple touch. Her eyes were fixed upon his face as he lifted his hand and took the taste of her, nodding in satisfaction as he reached for his belt.

As he unbuckled it and unbuttoned his breeches, he heard the sound of the decanter being opened. Colette poured herself a generous glass, setting her discarded heels on the table. He watched her cross to settle into what had up until that very moment been  _ his _ chair, draping herself across it and propping her stocking feet up on the table. She lifted a brow as though in challenge, but Gaius only smiled, reaching down to take hold of himself. Odette wrapped her legs loosely around his waist, pulling him in, and he teased himself against her slit a long moment.

“Please,” she whined again, wiggling her hips against him, teasing herself on the head of his cock. Then he entered her, and she arched, pulling away almost coyly. He took hold of her by the hip, holding her still so that he could press into her. A groan came out through gritted teeth at the heat of her, and despite his grasp she still shifted—no longer pulling away but working herself onto him, burying him in her hungrily. Her heels pressed against the backs of his thighs. Gaius leaned over her, kissing her lips, her throat, her chest, feeling the way she lifted herself to grind against him as he began to move. Her hands gripped at the edge of the table, anchoring her, allowing her to push back against him. He could feel the strength of her thighs when she squeezed at him, could feel her hard body beneath all that soft lace. He buried his face against her neck and bit down, her muffled gasp thrumming against his mouth.

After a moment he straightened, shifting his angle slightly, feeling the rush of cool air against his face. She groaned in protest, but he unwrapped her legs from about his waist. She lifted her hands from the edge of the table to knot her fingers in his jacket instead, as though that might keep him there—as though he had thought of retreating even a little. He kept one hand locked about her ankle, pulling her leg higher, pushing her knee back. The other wrapped about her thigh, pulling her to the very edge of the table. She braced that foot against his shoulder, the spike of her heel digging into him. He didn’t care; he dismissed the distraction a moment later in favor of redoubling his pace. Satisfied he had no intention of stopping, she let go of his jacket a moment later. She lifted her hands to rake back her hair, to arch herself onto her elbows and then to skim her hands over her still-clothed body. Her restlessness spoke of a desperation that made him smile, though not half so broadly as when she moaned his name.

He let go of her thigh then, hand skimming up her side and down the flatness of her stomach, pressing her into place atop the table, and then he turned his wrist, his thumb finding the apex of her vulva, nestling against her so that his thrusts and the way she writhed allowed her to grind her clit against him. She cursed, and he could not help but smile.

“Gods,” she said, breathless.

“There are no gods here,” he replied.

She did laugh at that, and it shook her body against him in interesting ways. A glance aside revealed that Colette was giggling, too, though she tried to hide it behind the rim of her wine glass. He slowed for a moment, but then she spoke again.

“It’s a metaphor, van Baelsar. Stop thinking so much and fuck me. I was so close, too.”

That took him aback, and then he laughed too, lifting his other hand to brush back her hair and beginning to roll his hips against her once more.

Gaius watched that restlessness build anew, her hands gripping at the edge of the table to steady them, back arching. She lifted her chin, stretching her neck, as though the moans escaped her more easily that way. She pressed one hand between her legs, her fingers brushing his, and he pulled his hand away to wrap both arms around one thigh, pulling her against his chest, her knee bent over his shoulder. Her other hand clutched at his jacket once more, and she pulled herself down against him, arching as she buried him in her completely. He felt the knot of tension at his groin, thighs tensing, holding him still.

“I’m going to come,” she whimpered, a moment too late; he could feel the way she squeezed at him already. The overwhelming sensation pressed his eyes shut, and he dared not move, only remained there, buried in her while her cunt milked him.

“I’m close,” he said, through gritted teeth.

“Fill me with it,” she panted. “Please. Please come inside me.”

That frank demand would have been enough, even without the heat of her pressed so tight around him, even without her body pressed to his. He came with a groan of release, holding her tight against him as he twitched and jerked within her, his heat mingling with hers. Eventually, her fingers unclenched and she let him go, slackening atop the table, panting. He drew away slowly, with a soft groan—even that stimulation was, for the moment, too much—and let her leg down. His seed glistened on her nether lips as she laid there, recovering.

“Now shall we retire?” he said.

“Let’s,” Colette agreed.

“I’ll be right there,” Odette murmured.

Even so, Colette did not seem keen to leave her sister behind, finishing her glass of wine as Gaius tucked himself away. Rising at last from her repose, she came to stand before him in her stocking feet, rising onto her toes to kiss him, soft and lingering, at the corner of his mouth. The worm light of the room glimmered on the nacre decorating her combs. She was not half so fragile as she looked—of that he was sure—but he was in no hurry as he kissed her, tipping her chin back as his lips grazed her jaw, his stubble against her throat causing her breath to catch there.

There was the hollow sound of heels on stone a moment later, and Colette drew away, exchanging glances with her sister. She reached out to retrieve her shoes from atop the dinner table, and he ushered them away at last, leaving the remains of their evening meal behind.

Odette was first up the stairs, and then her twin—younger, if Gaius did not miss his guess, watching the pair of them—and Gaius last of all. A gentleman was always on the side of gravity; he could hear that lesson in his head with every step. Still, it had its fringe benefits, he had to admit—his gaze fell naturally on the swell of Colette’s hips and the curve of her ass as she climbed, skirts swaying with every step. Beneath the glittering beads the material was almost diaphanous. He was almost sorry when they arrived at the landing before the door of his chambers, and he had to brush past them to press the cermet identification key into the reader.

The twins preceded him into the bedroom, almost tentative in their steps. Odette’s heels clattered on the inlaid marble; together they went to the bank of windows and looked down upon the dark world below. Crimson light spilled over the meadow where he had found them praying, and over the scattered pines and distant mountains. After a moment, Gaius joined them, looking upon their rapt expressions in dim reflection off the glass. Hearing his approach, Colette took a half-step back, but did not turn away, only pressed herself back against his chest, her head upon his shoulder. He could feel the softness of her body as he curled an arm around her, skimming his hand from breastbone up the column of her throat. Callused fingers brushed soft skin, wrapping around her, thumb skimming along the underside of her chin. She tipped her head back, and he leaned over her to kiss her, plying her lips apart. Colette reached back, her slender fingers gripping at his thigh, pulling their bodies together; her shoes fell from her other hand to thud hollowly against the stone underfoot. He drew her away from the window, but she did not turn to face him, only let him steer her until he was pressing her hips against the scrolled arm of a divan, its velvet cloth mounded with pillows.

“I suppose you want me to beg, too?” Colette said, wiggling her ass against him.

Gaius laughed, pressing a hand to the curve of her stomach, fingers bunching the delicate material of her dress. “Since you mention it …”

“Does the Black Wolf really need an invitation to continue his conquest?” she teased.

Gaius blinked, feeling exposed for a moment, but busied himself with stripping his coat off and tossing it over the tufted fabric. It slithered to the floor a moment later, but his attention had already moved on, lingering once more on the girl in front of him. He bent his head to kiss her bare shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent of roses. “Take off your dress,” he growled against the taper of her ear.

“Fuck me in it,” she challenged him.

He laughed. “Cling to your trappings of civilization, then,” he said, nipping at her skin. “We’ll see the truth soon enough.”

She only giggled, waggling against him once more. Then she leaned over the arm of the divan, putting space enough between them to draw the drape of her skirts aside, presenting herself to him.

Funnily, it was the hems of her stockings he noticed first, the way her thighs spilled out of them just a little, so that when he leaned down to run his thumb along the seams—razor straight up and down her legs—he could feel the softness of her, so different from the hard muscle her sister’s lifestyle engendered. They were held in place by delicate suspenders—mother-of-pearl buttons threaded through silver hoops, silken ribbons leading back up to ice-blue lace that served to frame her in a supremely tantalizing way. He lifted his hand, palming her ass, letting his war-callused fingers press into her soft, pale skin. Not weak, but soft just the same, almost bare beneath the glitter of her skirts and above the silk of her stockings, her labia just glimmering with wetness. He reached past her shoulder to press his fingers into her mouth, and her lips parted readily for him, her tongue laving over the pads of his fingertips.

Gaius ran a damp finger over her vulva, pressed into her slit, parting her, and heard her breathing catch. He stepped in, nudging her ankles apart with one foot until her hips rested against the raised arm of the divan, her glittering gown caught between her body and the furniture. She braced herself with both hands, clutching at the carved wood frame. He pressed a pair of fingers into her, feeling the heat and wetness of her, opening her. Her whimpers echoed on the stone underfoot, and he could feel himself stir.

Gaius glanced back over his shoulder as though suddenly reminded of his other guest, but found Odette sitting on the bench seats beneath the windows, carefully rolling down the lace of one boot to slip it off her foot. He smiled at her, and she winked back, and then he turned himself once more to Colette, and to the task of her pleasure.

He fingered her slowly—lazily, almost, but for the way he pressed his fingertips against her—against her frontal wall—until a moan spilled from those soft lips, and she arched, almost as though trying to buck him off. He would not be dissuaded, though he relented a moment, pressing down again, his thumb sliding along the delicate frill of her labia to stroke the hood of her clit. She mewled, desperate as a kitten, lifting herself into his touch.

“Gaius,” she dared to call him, frotting herself against his hand. He could not think to protest, consumed as he was with the sight of her, the way he strained once more against his breeches. “Please. I need you inside me.”

He pulled his hand away, and her wail of despair was soft, but piercing. Still, holding his hand in front of her she dutifully kissed his fingers, licking her honey from his skin, until he could—with clean fingers—unbuckle his belt and take down his pants.

He took hold of the base of his cock, grinding his length against her, letting her honey coat him, but Colette was nowhere near so patient as had been her twin, and she pressed against him eagerly, burying him swiftly in her heat. He rolled his hips against her slowly, just the same, his hands curling about her hips. Through the silk of her gown and the lace of her garter belt he could feel the softness of her, drawing back just slightly so that he could look down and see the way he entered her, sinking into her heat. He bit back a groan, a hand skimming along her side.

She reached back with one hand, sleeve fluttering as her delicate fingers spread over the curve of her ass, spreading herself apart as though she could not get him deep enough. Her enameled fingernails sunk into her soft flesh, providing a glittering contrast. Gaius reached across her body to take hold of her forearm, pulling her back against him. Even with her so braced, his thrusts rippled along her body, pressing her against the divan. He felt her arm tense under his hand, her fingers biting into her own flesh, and then she lifted her hand, and he let her go so that she could better brace herself, grinding back against him.

Gaius leaned over her, the curve of her ass pressed against his body, and pressed his lips to her back, just between her shoulder blades. She shivered, shoulders hunching in response to that unexpected touch, and he laved his tongue up her spine to bite at the nape of her neck, rolling his hips against her all the while. One hand he planted just beside her own, fingers gripping the acanthus leaves that ornamented the divan’s frame. The other curled about her waist, pulling their bodies closer still. She arched and shifted beneath him until a moan parted her lips. That was the spot, then, and Gaius found his vigor, his mounting pace set by the panting of her breath.

He buried his nose in her hair, his own breath spilling over her neck, feeling the beads of her gown bite against his palm where he clutched at her. Her fingers brushed at the back of his hand, scrabbling, desperate to touch him as she whimpered his name. He groaned against her hair, tipping his head to one side to catch her ear between his teeth once more, tongue tracing its curious elfin shape.

“Gaius,” she said, tone pleading. “Make me come.”

How could he refuse such a sweet-voiced request? He growled in assent against her flesh, his teeth grazing her neck and shoulder, pulling her back against him long enough for him to slip an arm around one thigh, curling his hand about her mound before leaning into her once more. His hand was trapped between her body and the velvet upholstery, but he had no intention of moving it anyway, but for the tightening spiral he traced around her clit as he took her.

She gave no warning, only clutched at his hand as she came. He could feel her clench around him, gripping at his cock as though she could pull him still deeper, trying to muffle the way she whimpered by biting at her lip. He wrung it out of her all the same, leaving her shivering, head hanging forward as she panted, slowly recovering. For that he was still, his forehead pressed against her back, luxuriating in her warmth and softness, breathing in the scent of velvety roses.

She rolled her hips against him after a moment, whimpering as she ground against his fingers, and Gaius lifted his head at last. He slipped his hand from beneath her, reaching forward to grasp her neck once more with one hand, bringing her lips to his fingers. She sucked them clean eagerly, swirling her tongue over his skin until he drew his damp fingers away. They caught on the neckline of her dress, tugging gently until one breast spilled free and he cupped it, stroking his thumb over her nipple. Gaius straightened slightly, bracing himself against her shoulder, and soon his pace was mounting once more, watching the way she pressed herself back against him.

“Where do you want it?” he asked her a moment later.

“Come inside me,” she whimpered. “Make me feel it.”

This, too, he could not help but oblige, pulling her back, pressing himself against her body once more, buried wholly within her as his cock jerked, spilling his seed into her eager body. His breath was hot, almost clammy, against her skin, sweat making his hair cling to his brow, and he rested with his temple pressed against her back for a long few moments until he felt her arms trembling.

Rather than make her continue to hold up his body weight, he drew away at last, sinking to sit on the divan, still trying to catch his breath. Before he could gather his thoughts or imagine their evening might be ended, Odette slid into his lap, perching on one leg. She was nude, having finished undressing at some earlier point, her bare arms winding around him, lifting a hand to flick open the first button at his collar. Colette settled in on his other side, already unbuttoning her gown at the shoulder to free her other breast. Her head settled against his shoulder a moment as she slipped her arm free of the draping sleeve.

“Mm,” she said, nuzzling against his neck more fully a moment. “You smell good.”

In that simple phrase, coupled with the way Odette slipped her hand under his shirt to touch his chest, he glimpsed their further intentions, and for a moment wondered if he had misjudged the balance of power.

Refusing to be cowed, he toed off his shoes, letting them fall with a hollow sound. Colette rose, waggling her hips to work her gown down over the perfect curve of her ass. Odette reached down to untuck his shirt, but he put a hand on her shoulder to forestall her.

“Up,” he said, and she obliged him, rising and turning to her sister, helping her slip the last dangling scrap of cloth from her wrist. Gaius stood too, hooking his thumbs into the waist of his trousers. His belt, already unbuckled, jangled as it hit the floor, muffled only slightly by the dark cloth it bore down with it. He stepped out of them, and paused as he went to unbutton his cuff links.

There, through the rogue strands of pale hair that had fallen back over her shoulder, Gaius could glimpse on Odette’s back a star-shaped scar. It was not the only wound she bore, he noticed now that black lace no longer obscured his vision, but it was unique in its character, and she had few scars on her back. As though compelled, he lifted a hand, two fingers barely grazing her skin, feeling the subtle joinder between scar and flesh.

“Ah yes,” Odette said after a moment. “Your little lovers’ token.”

He wanted to snatch his hand away, but could not, only stood there transfixed, feeling the warmth of her pool under his fingertips. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder, the loose waves brushing the back of his palm. Then she turned toward him, reaching out to straighten his collar. It was almost comically fussy, given the way she went back to unbuttoning his shirt a moment later.

“Shall I give you one to match?” she asked a moment later, her violet eyes twinkling wickedly.

“You would have to see the back of me first,” he said.

“True,” the knight temporized. Her nails raked over him—pecs to shoulders, then down his arms—as she stripped his shirt from him too.

“Good luck,” Colette giggled, leaning in to steal a kiss from him.

She put her hand to his chest a moment later, pushing him back down to a sitting position. Colette settled across his thigh then, and Odette straddled the other. He could feel her nails graze his skin, grinding herself against her fingers and his leg both. Gaius reached out to curl an arm about her shoulders, his hand settling at the nape of her neck to steady her. His fingers idly stirred her hair. Colette’s hand lingered against his chest, tracing the shape of his body—muscles honed by war, dark skin marked by old scars of his own. She skimmed her nails over the thatch of dark hair that trailed from his navel to groin, growing darker and thicker as it descended. She cupped his length, giving him a teasing stroke, and he groaned, wrapping an arm about her waist to draw her in closer.

Colette shifted to straddle his leg too, one knee folded up beside his hip, the other leg dangling behind her to reach the floor. It left his cock pressed against the softness of her thigh, and she seemed all too aware of it with the way she wriggled before settling in. Gaius lifted his hand to brush a few strands of hair back from her face—it was all mussed now, and he reached up to ease the combs free. Colette groaned, a little, as her hair fell, lifting both hands to rake her nails over her scalp, arching as she pushed her hair back. He could not help then but lean in and kiss at the curve of one breast, and she laughed, shifting her weight, rising to her knee. He cupped her breast, bringing her nipple to his mouth, swirling his tongue over the puckering flesh. Colette wound her arms around his neck, pulling his head in. He opened his mouth, letting his teeth graze her skin.

He could feel Odette’s knuckles press against his leg, her other hand slipping between her sister’s leg and his body to take hold of him, grinding her palm lightly against his cock. He ached; his hamstrings protested; still he could feel his cock growing hard.

“Do you want him?” Colette asked, voice quavering a little.

“Mm.” Odette’s reply was noncommittal.

“Hand me that pillow, please?” the younger twin asked, tone almost syrupy.

Odette scoffed, and Gaius drew his head back long enough to watch her bat her younger twin about the shoulders with one of the embroidered pillows on the divan. Colette gave a playful shriek in reply, wresting it from her sister’s grasp, and then she simply dropped it to the floor.

She extricated herself from Gaius’s grasp a moment later, rising much at the same moment as did Odette.

“Do you mind bumping up a bit,” Odette asked, slipping in behind him on the divan. Her legs bracketed his own, her ankles hooking around his, and he could feel the warmth of her body pressed against his back. She curled an arm around his hip, grasping at the base of his cock once more to give him another stroke. Up, then down, and then she pulled her hand away to rake her nails up and over his abs, pulling him back against her. Odette’s lips found his skin just at the slope of his trapezius, and he felt the heat of her breath wash over him a moment before her teeth grazed his skin.

Meanwhile, Colette settled in, kneeling on that discarded pillow between his knees. She looked up at him, smiling impishly, her tousled hair falling about her shoulders. When she leaned in, it was to kiss at the inside of his thighs, soft and warm, distracting him for a moment from his aching hamstrings. Her kisses trailed inward, upward, her breath spilling over sensitive flesh. She took him in her hand—barely; her fingertips trailed over the length of his prick, still filling out. She kissed him at the base of his cock, trailing her tongue up along the underside. He could feel nails bite into his chest—not hers, he realized after a moment, Odette’s. Her breath spilled against his ear as she nuzzled against his close-cropped hair.

Colette took hold of his shaft, carefully rolling back his foreskin so that she could swirl her tongue over the coronal ridge of his prick, flicking it against the tip of him. He reached down to brush back her hair, and she leaned her head into his hands. He guided her down gently, lifting his hips, and she took him into her mouth, soft lips wrapped around him, bathing him in the warmth and wet of her mouth. She whimpered softly—she could taste herself on his skin, he was sure. After a moment he relented, letting himself play with the soft spill of her hair, gazing down at her. She withdrew, slowly, cheeks hollowing as she went. Settling back on her haunches, her lips wrapped around the head of his cock, she stole a glance upward.

Then she winked.

Colette wrapped a fist around the base of his cock, stroking him lightly as she teased the head of him with her tongue, and he could not help the way he groaned. Behind him he could feel Odette shifting her weight, stretching to kiss and nibble at his ear. Her hand slipped from his chest down along his side and up over his back to rake her nails over his scalp. He shuddered.

Colette drew off him at last, but tilted her head so that she could lave her tongue lazily along the underside of his head, toying with the frenulum. She seemed to relish her work, arching and brushing back her hair. It brushed against his thigh as she tossed it, soft as silk, as every part of her. She still had not taken off those stockings, he noticed a moment later, marveling for an instant at the way they clung to her thighs.

She settled back a moment, lifting her chin and licking her lips. When she met his gaze, her violet eyes were alight with determination, and her smile was wicked. She gave the base of his shaft a squeeze, and then leaned in once more, wrapping her lips around the base of his cock, swirling her tongue over the head. She lifted a hand to grasp his hip as though bracing herself, taking him into her mouth until her lips met her fingers. She lifted her little finger—the perfect picture of a lady; he let out a breathless laugh—and slid her fingers down, and her mouth followed after. Slowly—though more quickly than Gaius might have imagined—she took as much of him into her mouth as she could, and then she pulled her hand away and buried him in her throat.

He could not help but groan, and felt himself twitch and pulse against her mouth. Colette lifted her hand from his hip, skimming it over her chest—up and over the curve of her breasts, sliding over her collarbone, delicate fingers wrapping around her throat. She withdrew after a moment, just far enough to steal a breath, and then pressed him into her again. Gaius lifted a hand, running a fingertip along the elegant taper of her ear, and her muffled cry vibrated through his flesh.

It couldn’t last, and he said so. Colette drew back, her fingers working over his spit-slick cock, her lips wrapped around the head of him. Odette wrapped her arms around him, straining forward to nip at his ear in turn, her hands pressed against his heaving chest. Gaius felt himself twitch and jerk, and then felt cool air on his shaft, wrenching his head away to look down and watch his come spatter on Colette’s pale skin. He painted her, chin and throat and chest, his seed glistening on the swell of her breasts, and she smiled up at him like she’d just won a prize.

Odette pressed two fingers into his back, just aside of his spine. “Bang,” she said, and then she laughed.

“Is there a washbasin?” Colette asked, licking at her lips shamelessly.

“There,” Gaius said, indicating the only door to an adjoining chamber.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, almost sing-song, and rose to saunter away. Gaius watched her go, straightening her suspender belt, and then he shifted his weight, untangling his legs from Odette’s.

“Subterfuge,” he accused her.

“It got me to your back,” she pointed out, and though he could not see her face, her tone was smug. “You’re one to lecture me about that in any case, considering.”

“You wouldn’t manage it in a fair fight,” Gaius scoffed.

“We could test that theory,” Odette replied, stretching. He could feel her roll her shoulders, her skin brushing his.

“What, shall I wrestle you on the floor of my own bedchambers?”

“Not the floor,” she said, indignant. “Call me a savage if you like but do not do me the disservice of thinking me a beast.”

Gaius stood after a moment, groaning softly, ignoring the growing ache in his thighs. “The bed, then,” he suggested, discerning already the shape of her intent. When had he decided to go along with an enemy’s battle plan? He shook his head, clearing it.

She looked at it, the inlaid wood of the footboard and tufted leather headboard, and judged its size. “A suitable enough piste,” she agreed, rising and stretching beside him. The Dzemael twins were neither of them short women, but he was Garlean. She padded across the floor to the bed, and turned to look back up at him. “Will you give me a leg up?”

He was seized then with a reckless vigor, and instead swept her from her feet, tossing her onto the velvet coverlet. She yelped in surprise, and he pounced after her.

Gaius did not catch her; she had rolled aside already, and was rising to her knees. He reared back, reaching for her, and she caught his hands with her own. Odette giggled, tossing her hair back carelessly even as they strained against one another, holding bodies at bay. He should not have been surprised by the strength of her, but in the moment he was, and then she stopped toying with him. Odette pressed him to his back, her legs tangling with his, wrists pinned to the velvet of the coverlet. Her hair spilled forward over her shoulder, her face inches from his, and then he wrenched one arm free from her grasp, taking hold of her forearm and shoved her aside, rolling with her, tickling at her side. She squirmed beneath him, laughing.

“Subterfuge!” she accused right back, and Gaius grinned. She wrapped her legs around him, trying to roll him off her, and he had to struggle to keep his balance. Odette slackened against the bed a moment later, and he allowed his weight to settle against her once more. She craned her neck, leaning up to kiss him, shallow breath spilling against his cheek. His hands slid over her body, up her arms, stretching them overhead and pinning her wrists in place before he allowed his lips to meet hers, plying them apart to kiss her more deeply. She arched beneath him, her heels locked behind his back pressing into him as she ground against him. He was half-hard at best, still recovering, but he rolled his hips against her in turn, his lengthening cock grinding against her folds.

Colette returned a moment later. “Are the two of you quite done?” she asked with amusement, skimming her nails along her collarbone.

“As soon as your sister taps out—” Gaius began, but Odette wrenched her arms free of his grasp, trying to squirm out of his hold.

“He thinks I’m going to tap out,” Odette laughed. “Have a seat. This will all be over in a moment.”

Gaius watched Colette long enough to see her drape herself across the cushions beneath the window, and then turned his focus back upon her twin. Her back was toward him, and he lunged and caught her, wrapping his arms around her chest and biceps, pulling her back against his chest. He leaned in to bite at her neck, and she went still a moment, a little moan escaping her. That momentary distraction allowed him to disrupt her balance enough to send her tumbling once more, though she twisted and writhed beneath him, trying to turn over.

She could not make good her escape, though, bringing his head level with her chest and no further. He turned his head to press a kiss to one nipple, sucking it into his mouth, listening to her whimpering response. She grasped his shoulders with both hands, but made no move to push them apart, so he crawled up, trailing kisses all the way, to claim her mouth once more. Her lips parted for him, her tongue tangling with his own. She wrapped her limbs around him—in no wrestling hold he knew, but with the desperate ardor of one that needed him closer still. He arched and settled, chest to chest, body to body, grinding his groin against her own.

The breathless moan that split the air did not come from beneath him. Gaius drew back in surprise, turning his head toward the windows. Colette was splayed there, legs apart, two fingers buried in herself even as she fondled her own breast with her other hand. He coughed in surprise.

“Impatient, are we?” he mused. “Tell her to tap out.”

Odette huffed. “I won’t,” she said, and a moment later her teeth sunk into his shoulder.

Gaius growled, making ready to reply, and then the velvet and stone and wood—not to mention the world outside his window and the girl loudly masturbating underneath it—blurred in motion. He tried to use the momentum to continue the roll, but Odette pressed his back to the coverlet, bracing one hand against his shoulder. He felt her thighs tighten around his hips, as though she’d mounted a warhorse and had little need of reins to guide it.

“ _ You _ tap out,” she challenged.

He reached up to take hold of her hip. Heedless of his grasp she ground herself against him, her slick labia sliding over his length. She bowed forward, hovering over him, and lifted one hand to sweep her curtain of pale hair to the side so that he still had a clear view of the windows—and all that transpired beneath.

“Or perhaps not?” Odette purred. “I think you like what you see.”

He turned his head to meet her gaze, licking his lips. Her lashes fluttered and her eyes closed, nails digging into his shoulder. She whimpered, grinding herself against him, and when the sound blossomed into a full-throated moan she was not alone, the same sound escaping her sister’s throat.

“I want you,” Gaius growled, and though he might snap his jaws after the words, he could not call them back. “Both of you.”

Odette laughed, her eyes opening again. “Then you know what you have to do, van Baelsar,” she said.

Frustration rumbled in his chest, building low in his throat, and he very deliberately unwrapped his hand from about Odette’s hip to slap at her, palm striking the taut curve of her ass—three times, her smile broadening with each strike. She leaned down to steal one last kiss, then sat back on her haunches, atop his thighs. Colette whimpered a little, her fingers slipping free, and then she stood.

“Do you want to trade?” Odette asked, waggling her hips a little.

“You look pretty happy there,” Colette said, climbing onto the bed. “I’ll sit.”

Odette hummed in acknowledgment, shifting forward and taking hold of the base of Gaius’s prick to grind herself against the underside of his shaft. He watched her for just a moment, and then Colette straddled his head, her pert ass settling against his chest for just a moment. She widened her stance, and he lifted his arms so that she could tuck her heels against his sides. He got a good look at her then, the pale curls crowning her vulva and her needy flesh, already a bit swollen from her earlier attentions—and his. He lifted a hand to her thigh, running his thumb along the hem of her stockings, up the ribbon of her suspenders to the lace of her girdle. She smiled down at him, arching backward, her hands pressed to his ribs, and she put a bit of her weight on them so that she could slide forward.

In much the same moment, he felt Odette lift herself from where she’d settled atop his thighs, her fingers tightening around the base of his cock. She could not resist the temptation to grind herself along his length once more before sinking onto him. He groaned softly, though the sound was soon muffled between Colette’s thighs, laving his tongue over her slit.

He could taste the salt of her skin, and his own lingering musk intermingled with her honey, eyes closing as it washed over him. Intermingled with all was the scent of roses and violets, the twins’ perfume clinging to his skin after so long wrapped up in them. And now this, his lips grazing Colette’s thigh as Odette waggled her hips, grinding herself against his lap to take him to the hilt. Her thighs squeezed at his hips, and for a moment he was glad the twins had not made the trade, for having those powerful thighs locked around his head seemed a dangerous prospect. But there was a thrill in that too. Next time, perhaps, he thought—then realized he had resigned himself already to a ‘next time.’ This particular time had barely begun, yet, and he nipped at Colette’s thigh to hear her playful yelp before she ground herself against his eager mouth.

He timed his slow licks in the cadence Odette set, riding him, parting Colette’s labia with the tip of his tongue and laving over them with the flat before flicking against her clit. She whimpered, her nails digging into his chest, and when he opened his eyes to steal a glance he could see her bowed backward, breasts thrust into prominence. She lifted one hand to fondle herself and pinch at her nipples, a few wispy strands of hair brushing at his skin. He squeezed at her thighs, skin and silk beneath his fingers. So long as Odette was in no hurry, neither was he.

He felt Odette plant her palms atop his thighs, and she shifted around him, her weight settling behind her, pressing the blunted head of him more firmly against his frontal wall. He could not help but imagine the sight for a moment, the way she splayed herself lewdly around him—he could hear it, and the way she moaned. Colette ground her clit against the bridge of his nose a moment, and he plunged his tongue into her once more, groaning at the taste of himself still on her. How eager she had been for it, too; he shivered at the recollection. She shifted and relented a moment later so that he could suck at her clit instead, tasting only her. His hand skimmed up her leg, over ribbons and lace, over the swell of her hip to stroke her stomach. She reached for his hand, her fingers twining with his to pull his hand up so that he could palm her breast. His other hand slipped lower, fingers brushing at Odette’s knee. She guided him, too, letting him grip at her thigh for just a moment, though when her hand drew away from his she did not go back to bracing herself on it.

He felt the way she squeezed at him a moment later, whimpering his name, and had an inkling of just where her hand had ended up, chuckling softly against Colette’s cunt. Her sister’s mounting pace, however, he could not long endure, and he felt himself pulse, throbbing and nudging against her walls. Odette felt it too, he was sure, for she grabbed hold of him by the wrist, her slick fingers pressing his thumb into her folds, the tip of him grazing his own cock for just a moment. He rubbed her clit in tight circles, her hand clutching at his. Colette bucked against his mouth eagerly, and in the end she came first, her moans filling the room, the taste of her flooding his senses. Gaius lapped at her, greedily, and felt himself slip over the edge. Odette slammed her hips down against his own, taking him to the hilt as he came, spilling his seed into her again. When her cunt squeezed at him a few seconds later, it was almost painfully tight, milking the last few drops of come from him and wringing his name from her lips one last time.

The twins went slack atop him, leaning on one another to support their weight rather than rest it wholly against him, and then Colette listed to one side, curling up against him. Odette pulled herself off of him a moment later, reclining on her back a little ways away.

It seemed then they were spent at last, and the three laid there, chasing after their breath. Gaius could sense the enormity of his thoughts, looming large and ominous as the falling moon. This was the enemy, he could not help but recall now—spent and sweaty beside him, in his bed, on his airship. If the Seventh called for the Fourteenth to reinforce …

He would not go. That had been resolved long since, and had little enough to do with this.

Odette sat up first, and twisted her hair into a hasty knot. He could see the star-shaped scar on her back. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, dangling her legs off the edge of the bed. “We’ll be going.”

Colette mewled in wordless protest, but Odette only stood and said, “Now.”

Gaius grunted, forcing himself to sit up. “Shall I show you out?”

Odette shook her head, amused, and began the task of gathering her clothing.

He watched them dress quickly, Odette fussing for a moment over her sister’s appearance, and Gaius rose to see them at least to the door of his suite.

“Valete,” he said, and Colette simply smiled at him.

But Odette said “In proximum,” and that worried him more. Then the twin champions of Eorzea were gone, and the Black Wolf stood alone in his lair.


End file.
